August 23rd
by Amnesie
Summary: A feuding Mark and Izzie catch on to a hospital pool... and decide they want to win. McStizzie, who else?


In grade schools, they would have called it a staring contest. For those in the adult world, it was a battle of wills.

He stood with his feet set apart, strong hands clenched at his sides. The muscles in his neck and arms strained, his bearing growing increasingly fierce with each passing second. He was a take-no-prisoners kind of man. The biting sting of his words, the threatening sheer masculinity of his presence, warned all adversaries that there was no mercy to be shown.

Her hands were on her hips, while a dangerous liquid fire blazed in her eyes. Her jaw was set, her lips pursed in fury. Never again would anyone witnessing now call her meek. She wasn't. Having sworn to herself long ago to never be pushed around, she wasn't one to give up a fight, especially one she wanted so desperately to win. Glaring heatedly into his eyes, she dared him to test her.

He couldn't understand why what intimidated others failed with her. She didn't know why he didn't get that she was not a pushover.

They'd been fighting like cats and dogs for weeks. If you were to ask her, she'd declare that it was his fault-- he'd had Bailey assign her to his service. He'd assert, however, that the blame was hers-- for not doing her job, which, admittedly, at times did include supplementary chores. Good God, she was an intern. She was getting off easy. Chatting with the coffee cart boy was a lot better than giving an old man a rectal, wasn't it?

She'd thank him one day. However, every time he tried to tell her that, she would blow up in his face.

"Mark Sloan!" She was yelling at him now. "There are some times I just want to stab you with this scalpel and, you know what, this is one of them. And no, no I would not save you; I'd watch you bleed to death."

He took a small step back, not retreating from battle or yielding his position, but just to avoid her swinging arms. He looked at the offensive object in her hand and grinned amusedly. "That specific scalpel, Stevens? Is it your lucky one?"

Her eyes narrowed and she glanced down at the tool before letting it fall from her grip. It hit the floor with a clang. The few people nearby not already watching quickly turned their heads that way.

She took a step closer to him and had to tilt her head further back to meet his eyes. Glaring up at him, she shook her head violently. "You are not funny," she ground out, her tone wickedly low. "You are not charming. You are not cute."

He let out a snort, which made her glower more intensely. He looked down at her with disdain. "Did I ask for your opinion? I don't need it. I'm not going to cry myself to sleep because Izzie Stevens doesn't favor me." He paused, then raised a brow devilishly. "Though it does make me wonder what kind of woman you are," he murmured.

Her eyes widened. "You arrogant bas-"

"Hey, hey!" She was cut off by Meredith's sharp bellow. "Save it for the bedroom, people!"

The pair turned to glare at Grey and for the first time noticed the crowd they'd once again drawn. Doctors, nurses, orderlies, patients… all having witnessed their entertainment for the day. Having been seen, most scattered, though a small group remained behind.

Coming to the front of the filtering crowd, Alex grinned at Izzie affectionately. "You're still holding your own, Iz. Way to go."

Mark turned his heated glare his way. "Karev…"

Alex shrugged. "What? This is like round thirty for you guys. I'm impressed you haven't broken her spirit yet."

Sloan gave her a mocking gaze. "I doubt that's possible… but I'm trying."

Izzie stiffened. "You're right. It's not."

"Glad you can admit when I'm right."

Alex looked over at Meredith and moved closer, stopping to stand next to her.

"Maybe I should move up my guess," he whispered. "From this Friday to about one hour from now."

Grey shook her head in response. "Saturday. I'm sticking with Saturday. They can hold off, but not for long."

From behind them, George spoke up. "How do we know it wasn't two weeks ago?"

Alex groaned. "Well if it was, you'd win, O'Malley. But… I don't think so. They'd be touching each other somehow." He turned to Meredith questioningly. "Don't you think?"

She nodded. At the sound of Dr. Bailey's approach, they each scattered their separate directions, leaving Stevens and Sloan behind with one last observer.

Christina approached the still bickering pair with an unreadable expression on her face. Coughing loudly beside them, she eventually drew their attention and impassioned glares. "I don't mean to interrupt," she began. "Well, actually, I do."

Mark snapped. "What is it, Yang?"

She looked between the couple. "If you guys haven't screwed each other yet, could you start next Monday? That's the twentieth, by the way."

Izzie's jaw dropped. "Christina!" she yelled, furiously. "We are _not _going to sleep together. That's the last thing I'd ever do."

Yang looked at her blankly. "You're joking, right?" When neither answered right away, she continued. "Anyway, Monday. Don't forget. I've got a lot riding on this and… I'm not afraid to share a little."

The pair watched her walk away, before Izzie turned to look at Mark peculiarly. "She did just try to bribe us, right?"

He nodded. "Right. She wants us to sleep together. And, you know, it's not such a bad idea."

She gasped and returned one of her hands to her hip. "I am not having sex with you."

"Amazing sex," he corrected. "You're refusing to have amazing sex with me. If you're going to say it, you might as well get it right."

"Oh please," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Don't even think…"

He stepped back and took a deep breath. "Hey. Yang had a point. Just hear me out, Stevens." He watched her cool down before his eyes before he continued, laying out his argument rationally. "There's obviously a pool going on. Everyone's plotting when we're going to sleep together. Now _I _think-- who should decide that but us?"

She stared at him curiously for a long moment, before nodding in agreement. "Right."

"So," he continued," we should give them a taste of their own medicine. Pick a date ourselves and then _we'll _win."

Her eyes widened as she grasped his idea, but then clouded over in irritation. "I'm still not sleeping with you."

"That's what you think." At her glare, he sighed heavily. "We could pretend to have slept together. No one would know better. That is," he remarked, the mischievous twinkle back in his eye, "unless you change your mind."

He watched the slow mile grow over her face, then grinned himself.

"Wait. There's just one catch," she spoke suddenly. "How are _we_ going to enter our own pool?"

"Easily," he replied with a smirk. "We'll have someone else enter us."

"Who?"

Looking away, pondering for a moment, he turned back quickly. "The one person who'd never bother to enter it in the first place. Leave that to me, Stevens. I know just the person." He winked down at her questioning gaze. "Now you pick us a date."

Her eyes widened again and she said the first date she could think of. "The twenty-third. It's… uh, next Thursday. Mark it on your calendar."

He nodded in agreement and ran his eyes down her figure, seductively setting her traitorous body on fire with his stare. Meeting her gaze again, he licked his bottom lip.

"For you, Stevens, I'll do even better. I'll keep the entire day open… just in case." He reached out and touched her cheek gently, pleased to feel the light shudder that coursed through her.

"Maybe you should do the same."


End file.
